


Cool Me Down

by Eversincefiveboys



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: 6th year, Baz in love, Canon Compliant, Cuddles, Drunk Simon, Drunkenness, Fluff, M/M, simon is an idiot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-27 09:54:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15022085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eversincefiveboys/pseuds/Eversincefiveboys
Summary: “Do you think if you’d have us together you’d be the perfect temperature?” He says after a minute of sitting like this.I choke. “Have us together?”Simon laughs, and I can feel it vibrating through me. It’s an amazing feeling. “I mean, if you’d mix us in a pot, you cold as ice and me hot as fire, you’d have the perfect temperature, wouldn’t you?”“I guess?”“Cool me down, Baz.”(Heat me up, Simon)





	Cool Me Down

**Author's Note:**

> Baz and Simon are in their sixth year. Since it's a drunken night and nothing major happens you can see it as fitting in with the book. (simon can just not remember or is too embarrassed, and Baz would never admit to this happening).  
> Anyway, it was just a random small idea I had that I wanted to post since I can't wait for Wayward Son. I've also never written Simon/Baz before so I hope it's not too out of character.

I’m woken up by Snow opening the door loudly and turning on the light.

“Fuck, Snow, what are you doing?” I say and turn over, blinking hard against the sudden bright light. Why is he so _annoying_ , why can’t he just be a respectful roommate and let me sleep when it is two in the morning, on Thursday damnit, we have lessons tomorrow.

He takes a step and half falls, stabilizing himself against the wall.

“Unlike you, I don’t have night vision, so I actually need to turn on the light to see something, duh,” he says and rolls his eyes. I can hear from the way he is slurring his words that he’s had too much to drink. I remember him and some of the guys in our building were going to hang out tonight, which probably explains the state he’s in.

“Oh, you’re drunk. That explains your even more stupid than normal behaviour.” I sit up, now that I’m awake and I know he is drunk and even more likely to do stupid things than normal, I know I won’t be able to fall back asleep. He takes a couple of steps towards his bed and starts taking off his shirt. Why is he doing that? We never change in front of each other – and we never stated that being drunk would change this. I try not to stare (which is really, really difficult since I’m still half asleep).

“Crowley,” he swears with a grin when he’s taken off his T-shirt. “Your hair. It looks so ridiculous.” He starts laughing. First just a little chuckle and then a really loud laugh, he’s even holding on to his stomach. I am annoyed because excuse me, I literally was asleep a couple minutes ago. But on the other hand, Snow has never so openly laughed at me in this happy way, not meaning to be cruel. I shrug and self-consciously touch the top of my head.

“Look at you, so adorable with your hair sticking up on all sides. It looks so soft and fluffy, I can’t believe you always try to make it look slick and tough.” He is still laughing and clutching his stomach, but he also looks somewhat fascinated.

“What are you talking about, Snow? You’re literally always there when I wake up, you have seen my hair like this a million times.”

He shrugs, “never really appreciated it until now.” He’s stopped laughing now and is looking at me with a fascinated look on his face, as if he is studying me. I feel the blood from my trip to the catacombs this evening rushing up to my cheeks, but I refuse not to meet his gaze. I narrow my eyes at him, pretending I am really annoyed by this new form of attention. (But I am not. I am really enjoying it, but I’ll never admit that ever in my life to anyone).

“I don’t understand why you put products in it each morning, it looks so soft,” he exclaims. He half walks half stumbles over to my bed and before I can react one of his hands is in my hair and touching it.

“I’m not a dog,” I say, and try to push his hand of. (I don’t really put effort in that, though. I don’t mind if I can’t get his hand away from my hair).

“But it really is soft!” He says. I still can’t believe how close he is standing, and how he is not wearing a shirt.

“Care to put a shirt on?” I say. (I don’t know why I say it. Mostly to save myself, I’m honestly not surviving much longer if he keeps standing so close to me and is this naked)

He pulls back his hand slowly and shakes his head. “I am so _hot_ , Baz.”

“I beg to differ.” (no I don’t, but I am not going to say _yes you are_ )

He rolls his eyes.

“I mean,” he says, dragging the ‘mean’, as drunk people do. “I am so warm, I am overheating. I think drinking makes my magic come to the surface.” He is still standing so close, but even if he’d been on the other side of the room I could feel what he meant.

“Yeah, I think your magic is spilling a bit, I can feel it. You’re not going to go off, are you?”

“No, if I can just cool down,” he says and walks over to the window. I shut it when I went to sleep because I always get too cold, and he wasn’t in the room so I didn’t even have to fight about it. He opens it wide enough to hang his head out.

“Not cool enough. Only way I can cool down is if I go outside again,” he says, his voice starting to sound agitated. I realise he might actually go off tonight if he doesn’t go outside, which I really don’t want to happen because there is the risk of my things (and myself) being burned to ashes.

“I can’t be bothered walking all those stairs again, though. Maybe I can just go from here…” And then he actually starts climbing on the window still. Before I even let myself think I’m on my feet and grabbing him by his arm, as a reflex. I pull him back inside the room, which is easy since I’m stronger than him.

“ _What the hell, Snow!_ ”I scream, fear filling my whole body. “You are so fucking stupid. Even more than usual when you’re pissed. We’re supposed to fight, which we can’t do if you go and fucking kill yourself because you want some fresh air. Fucking idiot.” Without really realising I’ve pulled him closer and both my hands are now on his arm, shaking it. I don’t know if he’s even really hearing me. His eyes are closed, an expression of relief on his face. He sighs, and then makes a really inappropriate sound. Something close to a moan.

“Oooh,” he says, in a tone that is really not meant for your arch nemesis. He needs to stop right now because that tone is really doing something to me. “ooh.” He takes one of my hands off his arm and moves it to his face. I let him. (because I have no fucking clue what is going on but I am not going to stop him.) My hand is now on his cheek, and he moans again. Alarm bells are going off in my head. There is actually ringing in my ears because I cannot take this. I can’t think. I am uncomfortable because these sounds are just not okay. So I break the weird moment by saying my standard, “what are you doing, Snow?” My voice sounding a lot hoarser than I’d like it to.

He opens his eyes again and looks at me, not showing any sing of shame. He blinks. “You are so cold, Baz,” He says, leaning his cheek into my hand. “You are so cold and I am so hot! This is amazing. Perfect! Like I’m holding a block of ice, or snow!” Then he starts laughing and moves back a bit, breaking the contact with my hand which I let drop immediately. (I don’t want to seem desperate. Because I am not, of course.) He’s clutching his stomach again – apparently a lot is funny tonight. I raise my eyebrows at him.

“Get it? It’s funny because my name is Snow. And snow is cold. But I’m always hot,” he says in-between laughter. Tears are forming in his eyes.

“You are ridiculous,” I say. Because he is. But he also isn’t, he is also freaking adorable that he finds this funny. (I know, I’m smitten. I hate it, okay? But he is making it really hard tonight for me to forget about feelings)

“I know we’re supposed to be enemies, but please please please please can we hug so I can cool down? And can we also sit because I’m getting tired of standing.” (He really doesn’t need to say please, I would hug him even if he commanded me). I am feeling so defenceless, why is Simon Snow so adorable when he’s drunk? (not just when he’s drunk, trust me. But definitely even more.) I also know this is my only chance to ever hug him in my life so I might as well take it. Also, Simon is the one suggesting it so if either of us has to be embarrassed tomorrow it will be him. He might not even remember this, since he really is quite drunk and has been slurring his words the whole time.

“Fine. If it keeps you from jumping out of the window.”

He throws me the biggest smile in the world and drags me over to my bed. (I don’t know why he decides mine is best, maybe it’s cold from me lying in it?)

We sit down and before I have time to overthink what the fuck is happening at the moment, he throws his arms around me (he really is warm) and hugs me. I hug him back and decide to stop pretending I don’t want to hug him at all. I know he is too drunk to even notice if I don’t try to hold him off of me as much as possible, so I might as well enjoy this moment. We move a bit, both trying to find a more comfortable position and end up with my back against the headboard and him sitting next to me, hip to hip and leg to leg, leaning against me and on me. His arms are wrapped around me and my arms around him. His head is resting on my chest and I’ve decided to give in and just let my head rest on top of his. (To cool down the top of his head, too, you know.)

“Do you think if you’d have us together you’d be the perfect temperature?” He says after a minute of sitting like this.

I choke. “ _Have us together?_ ”

Simon laughs, and I can feel it vibrating through me. It’s an amazing feeling. “I mean, if you’d mix us in a pot, you cold as ice and me hot as fire, you’d have the perfect temperature, wouldn’t you?”

“I guess?”

“Cool me down, Baz.”

(Heat me up, Simon)

“Get it together, Simon.”

I realise too late that I say Simon instead of Snow. I don’t think he realises, though, since he just sighs and cuddles even closer to me. I close my eyes for a second, smelling his hair. It mostly smells of smoke – because Simon is basically on fire – but it smells like him and I wish I was always allowed to smell it like this.

“Hey, Baz?”

“What?”

He sits up a bit straighter and turns his head so he can face me.

“If I overflow could you catch fire? Since you’re a vampire, you’re extra flammable, right? And I’m super powerful so if my magic overflows, would you catch fire?” I can see the little twinkle in his eyes, and I want to pretend he’s asking it out of concern but I know he’s still trying to get a confirmation on whether I’m a vampire or not, even though I’m sure he basically knows. And even though I’m very much in love with him at this moment, I’m not going to give him that satisfaction.

“Fuck off, Snow,” I say, and pull him against me again, so that I can’t see his stupid face anymore. (not because I was missing the extreme physical contact, obviously).

 

We sit like that for a little while longer, in silence. It’s a nice silence, I don’t feel like I need to fill it with sarcastic comments or deep conversations. I like him this close to me, I like pretending for this one minute that this is a normal routine we have every night. I know this is the only chance in my life I’ll ever get to sit like this with him, and I want to enjoy it and hold him as close as I can and smell his hair, listening to his breathing.

“You know, Baz. It’s too bad you hate me and we’re arch nemesis, because this cooling down feels really nice,” he says, sighing contently. I softly nod, I know he can feel the movement. “I wish I could always have you next to me like this.”

And I know Simon means it in a temperature kind of way, a ‘I want this block of ice next to me to keep my extreme hot temperature at a neutral level’ – way. But I am tired and I am finally holding the boy I have wanted to hold for ages, so I let myself drift into the feeling those words give me, just for now, pretending he means it in a different way. I sigh and sniff his hair once more.

“Me too, Simon, me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and/or feedback is always very welcome :)


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